This morning felt heavy before the sun even settled in.
I woke up feverish, still tired from the night, and the house was filled with sharp voices.
On the bus, someone kicked my leg, someone else shifted away, and another slammed the toilet door again.
Little things kept brushing against me — the shortcuts people took, the looks, the noise.
But I still kept moving:
breakfast, the lift, the quiet bench, the slow steps into the day.
Work felt busy with updates, small comments, missing faces, and...

This morning began with heat, discomfort, and a body that felt uneasy.
I hurried through the moments, missing buses and running after time that didn’t wait.
Small accidents and brief collisions brushed past me — unnoticed, unacknowledged
but I kept going, even while feeling fragile inside.

Rain followed me into the day,
and I held on quietly while others watched, teased, or stepped away.
Still, I greeted the morning, showed up,
and took another breath forward
even when my start was shaky.

Mum hurried me at 6 a.m. and warned she’d leave if I was late. I felt frustrated and pushed her slightly before heading out. I missed bus 28, so we took 293T together. A lady checked our EZ-Link cards. A schoolgirl kept staring; in the toilet, the door banged and people rushed. I saw someone kick another girl’s shoe before crossing the road filled with bicycles.

Later, a bicycle came very close to my phone and watch, and a girl sneezed on my bag. I pushed someone aside while trying to board...